


Away from Alcatraz

by Ms_Julius



Category: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel - Michael Scott
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 15:46:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12684924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Julius/pseuds/Ms_Julius
Summary: Machiavelli and Billy take their leave from the prison island.





	Away from Alcatraz

**Author's Note:**

> For a lovely @Le An ( https://infinitetrigger-uw.tumblr.com/ ) with a wide smile.  
> Thank you for the prompt, hope this is adequate.

The island of Alcatraz was covered within a thick cloud of mist, slight rays of light trying to claw their way through the dark fog. Further away from a shore a flock of seagulls soared around the isle, some of them looking for a place to land, yet shrinking away as the smell of a rotting flesh and ancient magic reached their beaks. 

Down near the rocky beach, a tall man could be seen struggling with something that looked eerily similar to a half-living corpse. With slow, sluggish movements, Machiavelli dragged his unconscious companion towards the water. His lean arms shaked from the weight of the cowboy. Billy the Kid was hanging motionless in his hands, the swearing man trying his best in carrying the limp body in a way that prevented it from hitting the sharp stones under them, his grip slipping every now and then. The distance between the scuffed docks and the prison building wasn’t too great, yet despite that the older man pressed his free hand against his heaving chest, panting loudly into the chilling morning air.

He really should exercise more.

A shallow light of the emerging sun was a welcomed treat for his sore eyes, and with a tip of his head he turned his face to the warm, gentle pillar of brightness. Little by little his grey aura started to regenerate, but the magician knew from the experience that it would take a good couple of weeks before he could use his magic safely again. However, as he glanced at the white-faced figure within his arms, the price was rather small compared to what he had just saved by sacrificing it.

“Oh bloody hell, it’s gonna be a sunny one, ain’t it?”

Machiavelli jumped in surprise when a weak voice spoke up. Trying to lift his head upwards, Billy stared at the Italian, wincing as his flabby legs refused to support his weight. “I really wish that blasted boat is still docked at the shore, ‘cause I’m sure as hell not going to be swimming across!”

The older man took a better hold of the shaking man, allowing Billy to set his body more tightly against his own. He could already see the mentioned ship resting next to the worn out pier, and sighed with relief.

“Neither one of us is going to swim anytime soon, I can assure you”, he said, swiping a drop of sweat from his forehead. “I am amazed if we are even able to walk once we get to the mainland.”

The cowboy’s head drooped, his eyes drifting shut. Perhaps it was more convenient this way, since Machivelli himself was growing more tired by the minute, and while he typically could endure Billy’s endless prattling near effortlessly, he was not sure he’d have enough strength for it at the moment.

The waves splashed against Machivelli’s ankles as he tried to haul the younger man over the edge of the boat. Water was cold, the wind biting even when the sun was coming out, and the magician’s patience was about to meet its end. With a frustrated, angry huff, he pushed Billy over the wooden side, ignoring the loud shriek of indignation as the body hit the floor between benches. Climbed in himself, Machiavelli took a look at the numerous buttons and switches lying in front of him on the dashboard and decided that this couldn’t be too much different from driving a car (never mind the fact that he hadn’t been particularly talented at that either). 

Pushing the right pedal down and pulling some sticks back he got the boat moving, and after an embarrassingly long time he actually managed to steer them away from the island and towards the coast visible some miles away. 

Small patches of salty sea water stang in his eyes, the surface was twirling and the rushing sound of the waves caused his stomach to drop. The engine clacked and banged, protesting loudly at the harsh treating it was receiving, and for a one moment it seemed like the machine actually sparked a flicker of fire. His heart pounding in his chest, Machiavelli loosened the pressure on the pedal for a moment, eyeing the smoking motor warily. An unwanted mental image of he himself sinking below the raging surface of the water while Billy’s scorched body blew up in flames of an exploding engine was enough to direct his attention back to the steering, but in the back of his mind his long-timed fear of drowning was nagging at him, reminding what would happen if his focus slipped for a second here. 

* * *

The trip was anything but comfortable, but they did not sink, which in Machiavelli’s books meant he had basically done a god’s deed right then and there. Gasping, he leaned against the steering wheel, his head pressed into his trembling hands. Never again. Not in a million years, if he had a choice.

“We’re alive. How in the heaven’s name did you manage that?”

The sound of Billy’s uneven, yet teasing voice triggered something in Machiavelli, and the man let out a manic laughter, rocking himself back and forth as he gazed at the waves roaring just a few feet from his soaking wet dress shoes. You couldn’t see the bottom of the boat, and the amount of the water was rising in alarming pace. But they’d made it across. He had driven a boat. An actual boat. Away from the island on which he and his current companion were almost killed by giant crab.

Another burst of chuckles shot out of him, causing his body to sway even more.“I haven’t the slightest idea, my dear. I think I might have broken something in the process.” The Italian shook out his arms, turned away from the steering wheel and took a long look at the blood-covered cowboy now sitting upright and staring back at him with concerned blue eyes.

“You sure you’re okay, man? That’s a pretty crazy face you’re making”, Billy said, raising an eyebrow. “And you never call anyone ‘dear’. Should I start to worry?”

With an effort, the older man took a deep breath and calmed his racing mind, which was still creating horrid, blood stained scenarios of their last days, one after the other. Never in his years in olden Italy had he been more scared than during these latest hours. Never had he been so unsure of whatever or not he’d survive from a backlash of a plan gone wrong. 

It had been thrilling. The uncertainty, adrenaline... The fact that for a first time in centuries, he had been afraid of losing someone.

Grey eyes narrowed in realisation as Machiavelli let his bemused gaze shift onto Billy, the cowboy now pulling his battered boot off in order to pour out the cold sea water still damping his socks. The blue orbs glanced at him questioningly, and it was then that Machiavelli noticed how intensily he was actually staring at the younger man. 

“You hit your head, didn’t you? Come on Niccolò, there is no shame in that, although I must admit I feel kinda bad for not seeing it myself. Must have been a hell of a sight.” A wide, sincere grin aimed at him threw Machiavelli off, and for a while he couldn’t think of anything to say. How long had it been since someone had smiled at him like that?

Clearing his throat, the magician shook his head and offered a hand for the cowboy to stand up. “Very funny. I’ll have you know that my head is working as intended, despite the fact that I lost quite a bit of my aura while trying to save your sorry backside from a danger of your own doing.”

“Ah, Hawk told you about that, huh?” Billy’s hand rose to ruffle his wet hair, fingers getting stuck in the knots of mud and salt water. “Well, it wasn’t like we had a lot of choice, but I do appreciate your indulgence for my injuries.” There was that grin again, a row of white teeth shining in the tender sunlight. “I guess you’ll just have to keep me around long enough for me to repay my debt.”

Before the cowboy could go on, Machiavelli had pulled his soaked suit jacket more tightly over his shivering shoulders and grabbed a hold of Billy’s pale forearm. A firm tug was all the encouragement he got before the Italian started to drag him along of the rocks of the shore.

“It certainly seems so.” If there was a small hint of a fondness in those words, the politician hid it well. But the former outlaw could have swore he heard a sliver of warmth coloring the voice of the man next to him. Pressing his free palm against the healing wound in his chest, Billy smirked and let out a silent snigger.

“We’re gonna have so much fun together.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“You’ll just wait and see, Mac. Just wait and see.”


End file.
